Why
by corneroffandom
Summary: The Boys fear when they haven't heard from or seen Dalton in awhile.


Neither Boy are sure why things end up playing out the way they do, but they arrive at ROH that night, hoping for a glimpse of Dalton, who hasn't appeared on ROH television since losing them to Silas. Maybe a moment or two to cuddle up to him and remind themselves why they're being so patient, never quite giving up on reclaiming their lives with Dalton, but they learn they're in a match and immediately their hopes change. "What kind of match?"

"Tag," a rather unhelpful tech tells them. Before they can ask who, he clarifies. "Against Silas Young and Beer City Bruiser."

Immediately the Boys know. This isn't going to end well. One or both of them must have done something to piss Silas off, and all Brent can hope is that he'd remembered to erase the history on the phone last time he'd used it, that Silas hadn't found _that_. The snuck texts and calls with Dalton, the whispers late at night, stifled laughter as he remembers the older man's gentle touches, his soothing words when one or both of them had woken up from nightmares. Ever since Silas had taken them, each morning was waking up into a fresh nightmare.

"I can't do this," Brent breathes out, trembling as he and Brandon slowly change into their green wrestling gear, adored in matching peacock feathers. They'd had it made before Dalton losing was even a wild thought in their mind, had been planning on surprising him with them before Silas had destroyed everything for all three of them with one match. He wipes at his face, lip trembling as he stares at his brother, hoping Brandon can make all of this right.

"You have to," Brandon tells him, soothing his hair back. "I'm sorry, Brent, but there's no way out of it. Maybe... maybe whatever comes of this will bring Dalton out of hiding." His smile is fragile, so easily broken, not at all like it usually is. Brent closes his eyes and exhales hard, allowing his brother to lead him to the curtains covering the entrance ramp to the ring. "Time to go."

The match is short- the only amusing part of it is when Bruiser and Silas catch sight of their gear, faces twisting in even uglier sneers. Silas screams at them for it before the bell rings, beginning one of the worst 1:40 of both Boys' lives. The only thing more painful, Brent thinks as he lays on the mat and struggles to take a breath in, was watching Dalton scream and reach out for them as Silas and Bruiser had dragged them away from him. Neither Boy can do anything but lay there as they're hoisted up and thrown carelessly over Silas and Bruiser's shoulders, carried carelessly backstage and tossed mercilessly onto the cool floor. "Take that shitty gear off and put some real clothes on!" Silas spits at them before storming off, not interested in seeing either of them undressed even after all of this time.

Bruiser leaves too and Brent moans, watching as Brandon painfully follows their commands. He does as well after a moment, and before long the gear is lovingly, gently folded and laid in their bag. A quick glance around and Brandon finds their cell phone, accessing the text screen. "We miss u," he tries. "Not sure if u saw what just happened, but... the gear is in honor of u. We're still holding on and we love u. Plz hurry."

Brent's fingers stumble as he composes his own text. "I miss you," he tries. "How you would squeeze my neck, how you would laugh when you'd get to hold both of us. I will try to be patient but please, don't take too long. Bring us home to you." He rereads both his and his brother's texts before sending them along. There's no time to wait for a response, however, as both Boys are risking a lot with these few moments spent on the text messages. They just get the phone hidden, changed out of the gear and into the stained, dull wifebeaters and jeans that Silas insists they wear when not competing when Bruiser and Silas reappear, grabbing them roughly and pushing them through the halls towards the exit, going on and on about more "men" lessons.

Both Boys exchange desperate looks before getting their feet under them and walking the rest of the way to Silas' truck to keep him from pushing them once more. Clings to memories of Dalton to keep them focused, determined to survive this until they can be reunited. Crouches in the bed of the truck the entire drive back to Silas' rundown shack and hopes for a message from Dalton waiting for them when they can have a second of privacy to look at the phone again.

Except that the phone is quiet, dark, when they look at it again, and Brent closes his eyes, trembling and growing even more worried for Dalton as Brandon checks their connection, even tries to call out. It connects immediately, dialing out quickly. He hangs up before Silas can hear anything, but still. Their eyes lock and Brandon shakes his head, shushing his brother. "He's fine," he whispers. "It's Dalton. He's just... working on a gameplan to free us. You'll see."

His words are weak, and he doubts them the moment they're past his lips. But Brent seems to need to hear them, clinging to them with ferocious hope as they hide the phone and go to their uncomfortable, thin beds for a night of disjointed, horrible sleep spent tossing and turning and thinking the worst about the days to come and where Dalton could possibly be, what he's doing to himself without his Boys by his side. "Please," Brandon whispers once he's sure his brother is asleep. "Take good care of him." He thinks about Dalton's other Boys, how he has difficulty opening up to them or being as affectionate as he is with Brent or himself. "Let them _take_ good care of you," he clarifies, closing his eyes with a sigh. "Please..."

He doesn't have much hope right now, empty and tired after so long of not seeing Dalton, but it's all he has to cling to, so he does so with the kind of single minded focus that Silas seems determined to squash under his boot.


End file.
